


Until We Meet Again

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Rape, F/M, Time Travel, True Love, Young Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Young Emma Swan, Young Love, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7402291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a joke, Liam Jones pays a gypsy to show 15 year old Killian his true love in her magic mirror. When Killian looks in the mirror, he falls through realms and time until coming face to face with a 15 year old Emma Swan.  Because I'm obsessed with younger versions of Killian meeting younger versions of Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

              The spring carnival spread before the two young slaves to most people would be considered shabby, run down, and filled with people of disreputable character. But to Liam and Killian Jones, it was the loveliest cornucopia of delicacies and entertainment either of them had ever seen. The two teenagers barely knew where to begin.

              Liam and Killian had scrounged and saved every copper they could get their hands on for weeks after their current master told them he would give them the day off to attend the carnival. Killian had to admit that, as usual, Liam had been the more responsible brother. He had far more coins jangling in the purse at his belt than Killian did. Not wanting to waste their precious money, the boys did an initial walk-through of the carnival, noting what types of booths were being offered and how much each one cost.

              They were both hesitant the first time they handed over a copper. Each coin had come at such sacrifice, it rattled the nerves to actually spend them. Liam spent his first copper on a game. He managed to knock over all the milk bottles with the little rubber ball and thus won the jackpot – two more copper coins. Killian was touched, but not surprised when Liam gave them to him.

              “Now we both have the same amount to spend.” Liam said with a smile, clapping his brother on the back.

              The brothers Jones continued throughout the fairway, the coins in their purses dwindling. They sampled delicacies, watched a jousting match, and had an artist draw a small portrait of the two of them. The day was soon drawing to a close. They wandered the booths, looking to see how Liam could spend the last of his money. Killian’s was already gone.

              “Oh, ho! Look at this, little brother!”

              “It’s younger brother,” Killian muttered as he turned to look at the sign his brother was pointing to. It stood outside an ornate tent made of rugs that Killian knew from his years at sea came from Agrabah. “Madame Zeroni, Gypsy extraordinaire!” he read. “Gaze into the crystal ball to see your future! Look into the magic mirror to gaze upon your true love!”

              “And look, it’s only one copper!” Liam dug into his purse.

              “So which do you want to know?” Killian laughed. “Your future? Or your true love? Because if I were you, I’d go with the first. I don’t know of any lass who will be able to put up with such a stubborn arse.”

              “Oh no, little brother,” Liam retorted, putting the coin in Killian’s hand. “I want to know what kind of lass will be able to put up with a git like you.”

              “Me?” Killian scoffed. “I’m but 15, you’re 17! Don’t you want to know if that spunky red head I caught you kissing the other evening fancies you?”

              Liam rolled his eyes. “The innkeeper’s daughter? She’ll kiss any sailor that happens along. Hell, she’d kiss _you_ if you asked her.”

              Killian made a face. “Girls are dangerous. Nothing but trouble.”               “You only say that because you’ve never kissed one. Which is precisely why I want to hear what this gypsy says.” And with that, Liam shoved Killian into the tent.

              Inside, a tiny, shriveled old woman rose from a pile of cushions in a corner of the tent. She wore large, colorful pieces of cloth expertly wrapped around her small frame. From the ends of the cloth, tiny bells jingled. A turban was wrapped around her head; a large, gaudy, faux gem pinned above her forehead.

              “Madame Zeroni, at your service!” The woman exclaimed with a thick accent as she bowed low before Killian. “What does a boy as handsome as you dee-zire to know?”

              From outside the tent, Liam’s voice boomed, “He wants to see his true love!”

              “Oooh! Dee-lightful!” the gypsy proclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Zee young lovers are zee best, no?” She held out her palm “My payment?”

              Reluctantly, Killian handed over his brother’s coin. Madame Zeroni smiled at him toothlessly, then motioned him through another curtain to the back of the tent. Inside the back room, was a gorgeous, gilded mirror. Carved into its frame were various fanciful and mythical creatures. Despite that, it still looked like an ordinary mirror.

              “Looks like it eez an ordinary mirror, no?” the gypsy asked, as if she could read his mind. She laughed a disconcerting laugh, then picked up a gnarled staff from the corner. Chanting, she shook the staff in front of Killian, and then in front of the mirror. Killian’s eyes grew large as the surface of the mirror shimmered.

              “I don’t see anything,” Killian complained. But Madame Zeroni seemed oblivious to his complaint. She stood before the mirror, eyes wide, mouth agape. She turned to Killian, almost in wonder.

              “Oh my boy, my boy,” she murmured as she patted his cheek. She continued mumbling as she rummaged through the items on a small table. She found a small piece of parchment, scribbled on it with a quill of ink, and returned to stand before Killian. She smiled up at him, a mysterious glimmer in her eyes, and slipped the piece of parchment into his hand. She squeezed his hand tightly with hers.

              “Um, ma’am? I paid money to look into your mirror.”

              “Zat you deed! Zat you deed!”

              Not letting go of his hand, she turned and pulled him closer to the magic mirror until he was standing so close, he could almost bump it with his nose. Madame Zeroni leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Don’t look at zee parchment until you are in zee new realm. And remember, you are only visiting. Just to meet her. You cannot stay.”

              “Wait – what? New realm?” But before Killian could say more or get an answer, the gypsy was shoving him forward. He should have collided with the mirror. But he didn’t. He was falling _through_ the mirror. He continued falling, down, down, down. And then there was darkness.

              *****************************************************************

              Emma Swan crept slowly down the stairs and across the common room of her current group home, backpack slung over one shoulder. Her heart used to pound out of her chest when running away, but by this point, she had done it so many times before, it was second nature. She opened the swinging kitchen door, catching it gently as it swung back so it wouldn’t make a sound. She tiptoed across the tile floor of the industrial kitchen, slipping inside the pantry. She flipped on the light and scanned the shelves.

              “Jackpot,” she whispered as she shoved a box of strawberry pop tarts into her bag. She was just reaching for a bag of pretzels on the top shelf when she heard a noise coming from the direction of the back door. Emma crept to the door of the pantry. She had a clear line of sight from the pantry to the kitchen door that led out into the back alley. She watched through the slit of the partially closed door as someone used a rock to smash the window in the kitchen door. Then a hand groped through the hole in the glass and deftly unlocked both the doorknob and the deadbolt. Then the back door was slowly swinging open. Emma wasn’t sure which worried her more; the person breaking in, or the possibility that Linda, their house mother, would come running into the kitchen.

              There wasn’t really enough light for Emma to make out the figure that moved stealthily into the room. But regardless of who it was, Emma couldn’t let the thief see her. She didn’t care if someone robbed the group home blind; she would wait for an opportune moment, then run out the back door. She just had to bide her time. Emma moved slowly backwards, farther into the pantry, until her back hit the wall. She upset a broom that leaned against the wall, but caught it with one hand before it clattered to the floor. It wasn’t until then that she realized her one, rookie error. In her haste, she had left the pantry light on. Her eyes darted to the partially closed pantry door, and noticed a shadow fall in front of it.

              Emma raised the broom above her head in a defensive stance just as the pantry door swung open. With the element of surprise in her favor, she should have barreled forward, swinging the broom, and made a break for it. But she was frozen in place. In her defense, so was the boy standing before her.

              “Who the hell are you?” hissed Emma.

              “Killian Jones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Yeah, I'm kind of obsessed with younger versions of Killian meeting younger versions of Emma. I have another fic called Hope For the Orphans where Killian and Emma meet as small children, in canon. So I had to write one where they meet as teens. Imagine Emma the way she looks in the flashbacks with Ingrid and Lily. Imagine Killian as . . . well, fifteen. They've never cast a young teenage Killian.  
> * And, yes, that is Madame Zeroni from the book Holes. I'm reading it out loud to my seven year old right now, and it's one of my favorites, so I couldn't resist. Besides, the movie version is made by Disney, so it's not outside the realm of possibility that she could show up on Once. Right?  
> * This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but I have so much I want to do with this story. Plus, I couldn't resist that chapter ending! It should be 3 chapters. Or 4. Maybe. We'll see :)  
> * Don't be alarmed by the attempted rape tag. Killian will NOT be forcing himself on Emma. And, it will be brief and will not be graphic. I just wanted to warn any readers that it might be a trigger for. It is also the only reason this fic is rated T.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma slowly lowered the broom as she took in the boy standing before her; and he _was_ a boy, probably about her age. Emma had never been the type of girl to give boys much of her time or energy, but she was still a 15 year old girl. And she had to say, without a doubt, that this was the hottest boy she had ever seen. He had thick black hair; the front fell in his eyes a little, and the back was long and pulled into a small ponytail. He was slender, yet he seemed toned and strong. He had a dark complexion, as if he were out in the sun a lot, and the small scar across his cheek made him look both vulnerable and dangerous at the same time. His ears were almost pointed and elvish, which Emma found adorable. However, his best feature by far were his eyes. They were so blue, Emma almost wasn’t sure they were real. Emma took in all of this in one quick moment.

              “And who are you?” the boy asked.

              “Emma Swan,” she answered, hesitantly, raising the broom again. He may be hot, but Emma was no fool.

              “Emma . . . Swan?” Killian repeated.

              Emma narrowed her eyes. “Yes –“ she bit off her words as she heard footsteps approaching. In one swift movement, Emma reached behind Killian, flipped off the pantry light, and yanked him with her to the very back of the pantry. Once there, she carefully leaned the broom back against the wall.

              “Wanting to get closer to me already, lass?” Killian teased.

              Emma ignored the way her heart did a flip at his accent, and clapped her hand over his mouth. “Are you _seriously_ trying to flirt with me right now? Shut. Up.” Emma could feel his lips curling into a smile underneath her hand. She chose to ignore that, too.

              Suddenly, Emma and Killian were both blinking as the pantry light was suddenly flipped back on. Emma surreptitiously lowered her book bag and slid it with her foot behind some boxes. Kilian noticed her skill and grinned. In the pantry doorway, someone cleared her throat.

              “What exactly is going on? Because it looks to me like two teenagers making out in the kitchen pantry.”

              Emma’s eyes widened, and Killian winked at her. She rolled her eyes at him before shoving him aside.

              “That’s not what this is, Linda, I swear,” Emma explained.

              Linda crossed her arms looking from Emma to Killian and back again. “Then by all means, Ms. Swan, enlighten me. But get out of the pantry first, if you don’t mind.”

              Emma and Killian dutifully and wordlessly obeyed. Emma took a better survey of Killian’s appearance as she frantically attempted to formulate a convincing lie. He was wearing a sweat suit that hung off his frame. His cheekbones were a little too pronounced, his lips were chapped and cracked, and there were dark circles around his eyes. He also had no shoes. All pointed to the reason he had broken into their kitchen – Killian Jones was starving.

              Linda eyed Emma. “Alright, Ms. Swan. Explain.”

              Emma cleared her throat. “Well, tonight, after dinner, I took out the garbage. Killian – this is Killian – he was out there. He asked me if there was anything edible in the garbage. He hadn’t eaten in, well, forever, but I couldn’t let him eat out of the garbage. I just couldn’t. So I told him to meet me outside the kitchen door after everyone was asleep, and I would get him some food. So that’s what we were doing, or what I was doing – I was getting him some food.”

              Linda’s eyes darted over to the kitchen door. “So why did he have to break in?”

              “Oh,” Emma swallowed hard, mind racing.

              “That was my fault, m’lady,” Killian piped up. _M’lady?_ “I thought Emma was tarrying too long, and I was so hungry. I thought perhaps she had changed her mind. She reprimanded me severely, I can assure you, when she saw the broken glass.”

              Emma felt her jaw practically hit the floor at his little speech. She glanced over at Linda and saw her mouth agape, too. Killian’s eyes darted between them, and he nervously scratched behind his ear.

              “Well,” Linda finally said, taking a deep breath, “let me go make some phone calls. Emma, while I’m gone, get the boy something to eat.”

              After Linda left, an awkward silence fell between Emma and Killian. Emma felt herself blushing under Killian’s intense gaze. Why she should be blushing, she had no idea. To cover her nervousness, she marched back into the pantry and retrieved the box of Pop Tarts from her bookbag.

              “Wanna Pop Tart?” Emma didn’t wait for a response. “Toasted? ‘Cuz I eat ‘em straight out of the box, but most people toast them.” She finally looked up at Killian as she opened the box.

              “Um. . .toasted sounds good, but I hate to ask you to start a fire at this time of night.”

              “A fire?” Emma laughed as she pulled the toaster out of the drawer in the kitchen island. “This may be a foster home, but we do have a toaster.”

              Killian approached the toaster tentatively, as if it might bite. “This apparatus toasts bread?” He fingered the cord. “And why does it have a small rope?”

              “Um . . . that’s the _cord_. You know, you plug it in . . . to the electricity?” Emma watched Killian’s face as she plugged in the toaster and inserted the Pop Tarts. His head was cocked to the side, almost like a curious puppy. Emma found it cute, which was ridiculous. He’d never seen a toaster before? Emma had heard stories of kids from abusive homes being locked up for years. Is that what had happened to this boy? He jumped slightly when the pastries popped up. Emma couldn’t help giggling. She needed to lighten the mood away from such dark thoughts.

              “Don’t they have toasters in England?” Emma joked as she put the Pop Tarts on a plate and slid them across the island to Killian. “Careful, they’re hot.”

              Killian began taking small bites of the Pop Tart with shaking fingers. His face turned red from his neck all the way to the tips of his adorable ears. Emma turned away, knowing his hunger embarrassed him. She heard him chewing faster as she opened the fridge and pulled out a bunch of grapes and a bag of cheese cubes. She set those down in front of Killian and then filled a glass with water. When Killian took the glass, he guzzled the water down in two gulps, so Emma returned to the sink and filled it again.

              Now that the initial edge was taken off his hunger, Emma took the stool across from him, grabbing a grape for herself and popping it into her mouth. Killian ran the back of his hand across his mouth and swallowed. “What’s England?”

              Emma almost choked on her grape. Of all the things she thought he might say, that wasn’t it. “You’ve never heard of England?” She watched Killian’s face closely; he wore a confused expression with no hint of embarrassment. “It’s a country. And the people there have an accent just like yours.”

              “So you assumed that was the kingdom I hailed from?”

              Emma shook her head. “I have never met a teenage boy who talks like you. And yes, I assumed you ‘hailed’ from there.”

              “So what kingdom is this?”

              “There are no kingdom’s anymore, just countries. Well, I guess England is a kingdom, it _is_ called the United _Kingdom_ , but . .. anyway . . . you’re in the United States of America.”

              Emma watched him quietly as he processed what she was saying. Though she felt like she was having to speak to him as one would a child, she got the impression that Killian was fairly smart. He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion in his mind, then nodded his head.

              “I think I see what happened,” he muttered to himself. The next thing he said, Emma almost didn’t catch. “Time as well as realms? But that makes no sense . . . or maybe time works differently in different realms. Bloody gypsy!”

              “Care sharing that with the class?”

              “Huh?”

              “You were kind of talking to yourself for a minute there.”

              “You heard all that?” he blushed again. Emma nodded. Killian leaned forward, “Listen lass, I can tell by the look on your face that you think me daft, but I also think you are the only one who can help me. Five days ago, I fell through a magic mirror . . .it must have been a portal. I have no way back to my brother in my own land, no money, and no food. I noticed on the second day, that my wardrobe was drawing undue attention, so I pilfered these. I’ve been sleeping beneath any shelter I can find, freezing practically to death every night. One morning, I awoke to find my shoes had been stolen right off my feet.”

              Killian ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He looked beseechingly at Emma. “So can you help me? Find a portal back to my land?”

              Emma blinked twice, her mind flitting in a million different directions. She prided herself on knowing when people were lying; she called it her super power. Killian Jones was not lying. And that was probably the most disturbing thing. Lots of foster care kids would make up fantasies. Hell, Emma had done it herself. Her parents were really a fairy tale king and queen who had put her in a magical wardrobe to save her from a curse. And one day, she would find them. Emma had truly believed that. When she was 6. But it hadn’t taken long for cold, hard reality to sink in. It seemed that reality hadn’t yet shattered Killian’s fantasies. He was a little old for such things, but then again . . . he didn’t seem to know much about life. Maybe he had been through something really traumatic. All Emma knew was that looking into his earnest face and his clear blue eyes, she wanted to help him.

              “Listen,” Emma began, dusting the Pop Tart crumbs from her hands, “when Linda mentioned phone calls, she was talking about children’s services. She’s in there right now, trying to find out if there’s a file on you somewhere. She’s probably also calling the nonprofit bigwigs who run this place. All of that to see if she’s allowed to let you stay here. Do you understand?”

              Killian nodded.

              “So if you want a roof over your head and food to eat for the next few days at least, then you better listen to me. Your parents over in England just passed away. Your brother is of age – at least 21 is best - and he had a job offer over here in the states. But you got separated at the airport. Then you got mugged and your passport and all your stuff was stolen. You’ve been trying to find your brother ever since.”

              Killian leaned back on his stool, a hurt expression on his face. “You don’t believe me.”

              Emma sighed, and spoke more gently, “I think you believe what you say. But just because someone believes something doesn’t make it true.” She could see the hurt in Killian’s eyes, so she placed her hand over his and continued, “I bet you’ve been through some rough things, Killian, but believe me, if you tell Linda what you told me, she’ll send you to Oakridge.”

              Killian stared down at Emma’s hand on his and whispered, “Oakridge doesn’t sound like such a bad place.” He looked deeply into Emma’s eyes and added sincerely, “Though I would much rather stay here with you.”

              Emma quickly removed her hand, face flaming. “Oakridge _is_ a bad place,” she explained, purposely ignoring his second statement. “It’s where they send foster kids who are . . . messed up, you know, who need to be on suicide watch in a psych ward or something.”

              Killian opened his mouth as if to say something, but he was cut short when Linda appeared in the doorway.

              “Come with me, Killian,” the young woman requested, with a reassuring smile.

              Killian glanced at Emma. “Stick to the story I gave you,” Emma whispered.

              Killian followed Linda out of the room. As crazy as his story may have sounded, Emma sincerely hoped Linda would let him stay. Something about Killian Jones made her want to see him again.

                            ****************************************************

              Between her interrupted attempt at running away and helping Killian, Emma had been up half the night. She slept through her alarm clock, and now it was already 7 am. Breakfast was at 7:15, which meant Emma wasn’t getting a shower today. Being present at meals was one of the requirements of this home, so she didn’t have a choice. Not that she minded much; the food was pretty good, at least.

              Emma juggled her face wash, hair brush, and make up as she rushed down the hall to the girl’s bathroom, hoping fervently that it wasn’t being used. She found Molly, her roommate, and Sarah, the oldest girl in the house, talking in front of the bathroom door.

              “Emma!” Molly stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “Have you seen the new guy yet?”

              “The new guy?”

              “Yeah, I bumped into him on my way to the bathroom this morning. He apologized like a ‘freakin prince charming, called me _m’lady_ , can you believe it?”

              “Oh, you mean Killian,” Emma answered before she could stop herself. Because who else could it be? But she regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She just wanted to use the bathroom; she didn’t have time for gossip.

              “Oooh, that’s his name? Sounds Irish. Or British. Anyway, he has a hot accent.”

              “And a hot body, and hot hair, and hot eyes, blah, blah, blah,” Sarah cut in, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t matter how hot he is, Molly, he’s a teenage guy. Which, for a girl in the foster care system, means he’s bad news.”

              Now it was Molly’s turn to roll her eyes. “We’ve heard your after school special, Sarah. But some of us wanna have a little fun, you know. I call dibs on him, if that’s okay. Of course, Emma, you seem to already know him. Have you already tapped into that?”

              Molly elbowed her, and Emma felt herself turn crimson. “Uh, no, I don’t really know him. I mean, do what you want, Molly.”

              Emma rushed into the bathroom, eager to escape the conversation. Once she’d closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath, and leaned against the sink. It shouldn’t have bothered her, what Molly said about Killian, after all, Emma barely knew him. _No,_ Emma told herself, _I don’t care. If Killian wants an easy score like Molly, that’s none of my business._ And if Emma rushed fixing her hair and makeup to get downstairs before Molly, that was because it was pancake day. It had nothing to do with Killian Jones.

                            *********************************************************

              It turned out Emma had no reason to worry about beating Molly to the breakfast table. There were more than enough pancakes. And Killian was nowhere to be seen.

              Killian was lucky he had shown up at Hope House when he did. That was the name of Emma’s current home – Hope House. It was run by a non-profit organization, not the state, which meant it was actually pretty nice. You never went hungry, you always had a warm bed at night and a warm coat in the winter, and Linda, the house “mother” was tough but kind and understanding. Emma actually might like Linda if she let herself. But after Ingrid, she would never let her guard down like that again. Running away from Ingrid was partly why Emma was at Hope House. She still remembered the conversation with her social worker.

              “Emma, I simply don’t know what to do with you anymore. You had a caring woman who wanted to adopt you – and you ran away. You had another couple with a stable home, foster brothers who seemed to genuinely adore you - and you ran away.”

              Emma slumped in her chair, picking at her fingernails, pretending she didn’t care.

              “Then there’s your juvenile record. Break ins, petty thefts. Between that, your age, and your tendency to run, placing you is becoming increasingly difficult.”

              Emma twirled her hair and smacked on her gum. She made eye contact with the social worker as she blew a small bubble. Pop! Everything about Emma screamed _don’t care!_ If only the social worker could see past her walls – that her problem was actually caring too much.

              The social worker sighed, closing Emma’s file and tapping on it with a manicured nail. “Luckily, Emma, I’ve gotten you into Hope House. It’s a nonprofit specifically for teens in foster care who are difficult to place. It’s your last shot, Emma, don’t blow it.”

              What her social worker had said was true. For that reason, the kids who lived here jokingly called it Hopeless House. Because the kids who ended up here were just that –hopeless. Emma looked around the breakfast table at her housemates. The house didn’t allow foster kids under the age of 12, and the maximum number accepted was 10. Currently, there were only eight teens at Hope House, which meant there was room for Killian. There was Emma’s roommate, Molly. Molly’s uncle had been willing to pay for six weeks of rehab for the wild 16 year old, but was not willing to take her back in when she got out. Then there were the 13 year old twins, Landon and Logan. They had been held captive by a human trafficking ring since they were 10. Emma didn’t like to think about what their life had been like. Steven, a large, lumbering 16 year old, had been removed from six homes in three years for “violent tendencies.” The newest arrival was Rebecca, a timid 12 year old who hid behind a curtain of strawberry blonde hair. Emma didn’t know her story, but she heard her screams every night. Rebecca was also the only one with a lock on her door. Again, Emma didn’t really want to know why.

Finally, there was Sarah. Sarah was the home’s poster girl, a shining example of the good their charity could do. Sarah had actually already aged out of the system, but private sponsors had paid for her to stay and finish out high school. This was largely because of Sarah’s 4.0 GPA and the fact that she would be valedictorian of her class. Princeton, Yale, and Harvard had all offered Sarah full scholarships. Sarah had been at Hope House since she was 14, and almost every moment of her stay had been spent studying.

              After breakfast, Emma approached Linda. She tried to be casual and keep her voice low.

              “Um, Linda. Where’s Killian?”

              “Oh don’t worry, Emma. He’s being evaluated by a social worker right now in my office.”

              “So, he can stay?”

              “Well, that’s still being decided, but for the short term – yes.”

              Emma couldn’t help but smile as she headed for the bus.

                             **************************************************

              School had never been Emma’s cup of tea. When you were constantly moving around, it was hard to keep up with schoolwork or make friends. Emma was smart enough, though. She did just enough work to pass every grade, and she exuded just enough prickliness to remain a loner. Basically, she flew under the radar of both teachers and students.

              So if today she had been thinking about Killian too much to concentrate on her work, no one really noticed. Not that she _cared_ about Killian, she was just _concerned_ for a fellow orphan. She had been hungry on the streets before, after all.

              After school, the kids of Hope House had varying degrees of freedom. It all depended on your age, how long you had been living there, and how good your behavior and grades were. Emma was required to come straight home, do her homework, and then have Linda look over it. After that, she had free time until dinner. She usually did her homework in her room, but today she did it in the common room. Every time someone walked through the front door, came down the stairs, or walked out of the kitchen, Emma lifted her head eagerly. Each time, she sighed, and looked back down at her tedious homework. Linda, who was doing paperwork at her desk, kept watching Emma with amusement.

              When Emma finally finished, she gave Linda her work to look over. When she finished, Linda looked up at Emma and smiled. “He said he missed the water. So I told him about the path around the lake.”

              “Oh,” Emma said with a shrug, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

              Linda laughed. “Killian. The boy you’ve been watching for since you got home?”

              Emma blushed, but couldn’t stop herself from running up the stairs to put her school books away. She looked herself over in the mirror. Her hair had held up remarkably well considering she hadn’t washed it this morning. Her face was a little oily, so she brushed some powder over her forehead and nose. She wasn’t one for much makeup, but she rummaged around in her bag for some lip gloss and applied that. Then she blushed again, realizing what she was doing. She rolled her eyes at her own reflection before heading downstairs.

              Emma walked the couple of blocks down to the park that bordered the lake, enjoying the fresh breeze of early spring. When she got there, she saw Killian sitting on a park bench. When she got closer, she noted that he now wore jeans and a t-shirt that actually fit, and his hair had been cut. She sat down next to him on the bench.

              “What happened to your ponytail?” Emma joked lightly. For a moment, she worried she shouldn’t have started with a joke. Killian was gazing intensely out at the water, his jaw clenching. But at the sound of Emma’s voice, he turned to her and smiled, his facial features softening.

              “Gave it to you, I guess,” he teased back, reaching up and twirling the end of Emma’s ponytail in his fingers. Emma swallowed hard. He hadn’t even said two sentences to her, and already her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty.

              “’Um . . . Linda said you were missing the water.”

              “Aye,” Killian sighed, “I miss my brother Liam, too. But I’m also sitting here trying to figure you out, Swan.”

              “Me?”

              Killian shrugged and scratched behind his ear. “Never mind, nothing.”

              Emma thought back to last night, how Killian said that he thought she was the only one who could help him. She thought about his crazy fantasy, and how hurt he had seemed when she didn’t believe him.

              “No, Killian, tell me. Please?”               He shook his head. “You made it clear last night, Swan. You don’t believe me.”

              “Killian, I _want_ to believe you. I just . . . can’t,” and Emma meant it. “But I stopped believing in things a long time ago.”

              “I know how that goes,” Killian sighed. “It’s hard not to grow up too fast when you’re an orphan.”

              He turned and pierced her with his intense blue eyes again, a sad smile draped across his face. And somehow, Emma knew that this boy could understand her. Completely.

              “Tell me how you became an orphan.”

              Killian’s eyebrows shot up for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Are you going to interrupt me, lass, when things get too . . . unbelievable?” There was honesty and a tiny bit of hurt in the question, but Killian covered it with sarcasm and a flirtatious smile.

              Emma pretended to turn a key on her lips. “I won’t interrupt, I swear.”

              Killian began talking. Emma felt herself swept away as he told his story. It was partly his accent and partly the poetry of his words that had Emma transfixed. But there was also something about the story that she could relate to. When he spoke of his mother’s death, Emma’s fingers found themselves lacing with his. When he spoke of waking up to find his father had abandoned him, Killian’s arm found itself draped across Emma’s shoulder. When he spoke of the many lashes he had received as a slave boy, Emma’s head found itself nestled against his shoulder. Finally, Killian finished, and turned to Emma. Meeting her gaze, he ducked his head shyly and scratched behind his ear.

              “I’ve never told anyone all of that. I mean, Liam has been there with me through it all, but I’ve never talked about it with anyone else. To be honest, I’ve never really had a friend besides my brother.”

              “I have a hard time making friends, too,” Emma replied, thinking of Lily for a brief moment.

              “I’ve been doing all the talking, love, that’s bad form. What about your story?”

              Emma laughed and shook her head. “We would be out here all night if I told you mine.”

              Killian ran his tongue over his bottom lip and arched one eyebrow suggestively, “Aye, and what would people say if you were out all night with a handsome rogue like me?”

              Emma rolled her eyes and giggled. She shoved Killian’s shoulder gently. “You are such a flirt, Killian! Not to mention a load of crap.” Emma stood and offered Killian her hand. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”

              They should have rushed to get back to Hope House on time, but they didn’t. On an ordinary night, Emma would have been in trouble for being late to a meal. Lucky for them, it was no ordinary night. When they approached the foster home, police cruisers were in the driveway. Emma rushed inside pulling Killian along with her. Linda barely noticed Killian and Emma walking through the front door.

              “What’s going on?” Emma whispered to Sarah.

              “Molly skipped her afternoon classes today and then never came home.” Sarah glanced down at Emma and Killian’s joined hands. Sarah raised an eyebrow, “And why are _you_ late?”

              Emma dropped Killian’s hand as her cheeks flamed.

              “I took the lass for a stroll around the lake,” Killian explained. Emma groaned inwardly. Why did he have to sound like he was in some Jane Austen movie?

              Emma sensed someone staring at her. She looked across the common room and saw Steven slumped in a bean bag chair in front of the video game system. A controller was in his hand, but he wasn’t using it. He was glaring at Emma and Killian.

              Killian leaned closer and spoke in Emma’s ear. “I don’t like the way that lug is staring at you, love.”

              Emma didn’t like it either. Cold dread ran through Emma’s veins at the sight of Steven’s icy glare. She had been so consumed with Killian, she had forgotten the reason she had been about to run away from Hope House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I know this was a really long chapter, but I've decided this will be only 3 chapters, as promised.  
> * I know Emma is opening up to Killian really fast and vice versa, but remember they are both 15 and don't have as many walls up. I figure it is true to canon too, based on how easily Emma allowed herself to fall in love with Neal as a teenager.   
> * I have done some volunteer work with some nonprofit foster homes like the Hope House I described. However, I can't say I'm an expert on the foster care system, especially the legal part, so forgive any errors.


	3. Chapter 3

              Emma was awakened from a deep sleep to something heavy pressing down on her upper legs and arms. She felt foul breath on her face and a sticky palm pressed to her mouth. Emma’s eyes flew open as she registered what was happening.

              “I know you prefer that skinny little Brit,” snarled Steven, “but I warned you we would have some fun.”

              He _had_ warned her. He had cornered her the first night he arrived at Hope House; just when everything had been going so well for Emma. Her first two weeks at Hope House had actually been good, and then Steven arrived. It seemed to be how life always worked for Emma Swan. She knew better than to stick around. So that same night she had grabbed the bag from under her bed, the one she always kept packed and ready to go, and slipped down the stairs. But then she had met Killian, and Steven had completely slipped from her mind.

              How could she have let her guard down? She wasn’t some naïve girl; she had been down this road before. When she was five, a foster father had come into her bedroom in the middle of the night. Emma had pretended to be asleep, until he had tried to get in bed with her. She jumped out of bed, running and screaming. When the man tried to grab her and silence her with a hand to her mouth, Emma had bit. Hard. His wife came running, and the next thing Emma knew she was in a police cruiser and being taken to her social worker’s house for the night. When she was 11, a foster brother had tried to grab her in the garage when she was putting up her bike. Emma had literally thrown the bike at him, then had run as fast and far as she could.

              But Emma Swan knew enough tragic stories from other girls in the foster care system that sometimes you just couldn’t fight or run. Emma struggled against Steven; she tried to kick with her legs, but his knees had her thighs pinned down. She tried to reach up and grab his hair or an ear, but his elbows had her arms pinned. She tried to open her mouth to bite his hand, but she couldn’t even pry her lips open. Emma cut her eyes to her left to see if Molly was home, but the girl’s bed was empty. A tear slid down Emma’s cheek. She wouldn’t quit trying to fight him, but she had a terrible feeling there was no escape this time. _Maybe if I close my eyes and pretend to be somewhere else, it will be over quickly._

              Then Emma heard a voice; low, dark, and dangerous. “Get off her, _mate_.”

              Killian sounded so different, except for the accent, but then the moonlight from Emma’s window reflected in his blue eyes. They were a darker blue than usual. The moonlight also glinted off the steel of a dagger at Steven’s throat.

              “Chill out, man!” Steven gasped, trying to sound cool. “You can take a turn, too.”

              If someone had asked Emma yesterday who would win in a wrestling match, Killian or Steve, Emma would have said Steven. He outweighed Killian and towered over him in height. Yet Killian easily yanked Steven off Emma and tossed him carelessly into the wall. Emma sat up, clutching her blankets, and watched as Killian pinned Steven against the wall, holding the dagger once again at the taller boy’s throat. Emma’s bedroom door was ajar, and light from the hallway spilled over the two boys. As Emma took in the scene before her, she saw why she had underestimated Killian’s strength. He was slight of build, but his shoulders were broad. As he held Steven in place, Emma could see the definition of his muscles across his back and through his biceps. Emma hadn’t really believed his stories of working on a ship; hoisting sails, knotting heavy ropes, and climbing rigging, but it was obvious he was active. Steven, on the other hand, was large but flabby. His sallow, pale skin and dull green eyes were evidence that he spent more time playing video games and watching TV than anything else.

              “You will not touch her again,” Killian seethed. “If you so much as look at her, I will slit your throat in your sleep.”

              Steven’s eyes widened in terror. “You’re crazy, man! Alright, alright!”

              Killian flung Steven towards the door, and Steven practically fell over himself running back to his room. Chest heaving, Killian looked at Emma with worried eyes. “Are you alright?”

              Several emotions warred through Emma as she contemplated that simple question. But for Emma Swan, the easiest emotion to deal with was anger. So anger was the emotion she allowed to fill her up and seep through her veins. And for some reason, the safest place to channel that anger was towards Killian Jones. Emma jumped out of bed, glaring at Killian.

              “You think you had to barge into my bedroom like that, Killian? What, do you think I need your help? Like I’m some damsel in distress!”

              Killian’s eyes widened in confusion. “You mean you _wanted_ that brute in your bed?”

              Emma felt tears spring to her eyes, but refused to let them fall. “Of course not,” she yelled. “But I’ve faced a dozen guys like Steven. I can take care of myself. I don’t need some guy to take care of me! I had it under control!”

              She expected Killian to argue with her, that obviously she _didn’t_ have it under control, but instead he raised both hands, backing away from her like she was some kind of unpredictable, wild animal. “Okay, Emma. I know you’re a tough lass. I never doubted that.”

              “Then get out!”

              Killian nodded silently and turned towards the door. He stopped just outside her room, and gave her an earnest look. “I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

              Emma answered him by slamming the door in his face. She stomped back to her bed and crawled beneath her sheets. Two hours ticked by, but Emma couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Steven on top of her. She tossed, turned, and thumped her pillow. Finally, she got up. Maybe she needed to go to the bathroom.

              When Emma walked out of her bedroom door, she tripped over a large lump that lay across the floor. Emma went sprawling to the carpet, and the “lump” groaned.

              “Oy, Swan, you have quite the way of waking a sailor!”

              “Killian!” Emma exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. “What the hell are you doing?”

              “Something that will probably result in you yelling at me,” Killian grumbled sleepily, “but I won’t be moved. I’m staying right here in front of your door until morning to ensure that pig doesn’t bother you.”

              “Fine,” Emma spat, stomping to the bathroom. Once inside, she leaned shakily against the sink. She glared at her reflection and sighed. Emma didn’t really have to go to the bathroom. What she really wanted to do was take a shower. But she didn’t want anyone to hear the shower going. Instead, she took a washrag and scrubbed at her face, arms, and legs. Huge, ugly bruises were coming up where Steven had pinned her down. When she was finished, she walked out of the bathroom and paused in the hallway, watching Killian. He was seated on the floor, leaning against her doorjamb. His eyes were closed, but she doubted he was asleep. Emma approached him slowly, clearing her throat. Killian looked up at her, his blue eyes laced with concern.

              Emma hugged herself, rubbing her bare arms. “Um . . . I’m sorry. For yelling at you.”

              Killian stood and approached her slowly, as if he would spook her. “I got up to use the bathroom. When I came out, I saw your door open. When I walked in and saw Steven . . .” Killian sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

              “You didn’t,” Emma assured him, rubbing her arms some more. Why was she so cold?

              Emma’s movements caused Killian to look down at her arms. “Oh, Emma,” he whispered, lifting his arm as if to touch her bruises. But he seemed to catch himself and lowered his arm. “You probably don’t want to be touched. I understand that.”

              Suddenly, the dam broke. Emma started sobbing and couldn’t stop. She took two steps to cover the distance between them, and leaned against Killian’s chest, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Hold me, please,” she whispered brokenly.

              Gently, Killian put his arms around her. He cupped the back of her head with one hand, gently stroking her hair. He murmured the things people say when someone is upset. The things most orphans rarely hear. His words made her cry harder. When her tears were finally spent, she pulled back, wiping her eyes. For lack of anything better to say, she told him, “I got your t shirt all wet.”

              Killian smiled gently, wiping at the path of her tears with the pad of his thumb. “Any time, Swan.”

              “Will you stay out here all night?” Emma asked, embarrassed at how wobbly her voice sounded.

              “If you want me to.”

              Emma just nodded.

              “Then fear not, fair lady, Killian Jones at your service.” He then bowed with a flourish, causing Emma to roll her eyes and giggle. It was probably why he did it anyway.

              Emma walked back to her room, but paused in the doorway. “Killian.”

              “Yes, Emma?”

              “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

              “But shouldn’t Steven be –“               Emma put her hand gently on Killian’s shoulder. “Please, Killian, I’m begging you. Don’t tell anyone.”

              “As if I could refuse you,” Killian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, Swan, my lips are sealed.”

              Emma smiled a silent thank you and closed her door. She climbed back into bed, and although she cried again until her pillow was wet, she eventually fell asleep. She still felt violated. She still felt angry. But at least with Killian outside her door, she felt safe. Maybe for the first time in her life.

                             **********************************************

              The next morning, Killian was already gone when Emma headed to the bathroom. Her eyes darted back and forth, worried she would see Steven, but for now he seemed to be heeding Killian’s warning. Emma felt self-conscious undressing for her shower, and finished more quickly than she ever had in her life. Killian had stopped Steven before he did what he had come to do, yet Emma still felt shaken to her core. She returned to her room and dressed for the day, choosing a shirt with three-quarter length sleeves to cover her bruises.

              When she walked downstairs for breakfast, she was the last to arrive. She sought out Killian, and kept eye contact with him, not wanting to even glance at Steven. Killian smiled at her, but his jaw clenched at Steven’s mere presence in the same room. Emma slid into the seat Killian had saved for her, took his hand, and gave it a squeeze. She smiled back at him, trying to convey to him that she was okay.

              Linda informed everyone that Molly was fine but would not be returning to Hope House. She didn’t give any more details; not that anyone expected any. She then asked Emma if she would help Killian, as it was his first day at South Oak High School, and they were in the same grade.

              “Of course she’ll help him,” Steven muttered under his breath, causing the rest of the teens to snicker with laughter. Emma noticed Killian clutch his fork tightly, his jaw clenching again. She nudged him gently, and tried to communicate with her eyes that Steven’s words didn’t bother her. Killian seemed to understand, and relaxed, releasing the fork.

              Killian and Emma held hands as they walked to the bus stop, ignoring the continued teasing from the other kids. When the bus pulled up, Killian’s eyes widened in terror.

              “Never ridden a bus before,” Emma teased lightly.

              “Um . . no, actually.”

              Emma just smiled and gently pulled him forward. She led him to a seat towards the back, intentionally giving him the aisle seat. She still didn’t believe he was from this land called The Enchanted Forest, but she could tell being on the bus made him nervous. He clutched the seat tightly as the bus began to move.

              “How fast does this bloody thing go?”

              Emma tugged on his arm. “Hey, just relax, okay? I promise, everything will be fine.”               He looked at Emma and smiled, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Promise _everything_ will be fine? Because I’ve never been to school either.”

              “You haven’t?” Emma asked, eyebrows rising in surprise.

              “Well, not many do, where I come from. Unless you’re rich. Luckily, my mother taught us to read before she passed, and Liam is quite the annoyingly persistent tutor.”

              Emma chuckled. “You’ll be better off than some of the kids at our school then. Actually, based on your vocabulary, I’d say you’ll be just fine.”

              The two of them rode in companionable silence for a few moments, and then Emma asked a question that had been bothering her.

              “Killian, when you came into my room, why did you have a dagger? I mean, _how_ , I guess. _How_ did you get a dagger?”

              Killian shrugged. “I always have one with me.” He sighed and suddenly found the brand new book bag on his lap extremely fascinating. “Right after my father left, something similar to what happened to you, happened to me.”

              Killian swallowed and was silent for a moment. Emma laid her hand on top of his, silently encouraging him to go on. “My brother came to my rescue, thankfully. But Liam and I both learned from then on to sleep with a dagger under our pillow.”

              Emma felt like crying as she watched the struggle of emotions cross his face. “How old were you?”

              Killian looked at her with a sad smile. “I was 8.”

              Emma didn’t know what to say. Instead, she slipped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. It must have been enough, because she felt the tension melt from his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Whew, this was the hardest thing I probably have ever had to write. According to statistics, sexual assault and abuse is unfortunately extremely common in the foster care system. Given Emma's past, something like this probably happened to her. It was very difficult, because I in no way wanted to imply that if someone is just strong enough, smart enough, or fast enough, they can avoid being a victim of sexual assault. Because that is just not true; it is NEVER the victim's fault. I was actually sexually harassed by a schoolmate, on an almost daily basis over the course of several months, when I was 13, so this also brought back some tough memories. I hope I handled the scene and Emma's reactions appropriately.  
> * I'm sorry, I lied. This fic will be 4 chapters, not 3. Sorry, this chapter was agonizingly slow and emotional to write, so I just had to end it and give myself a breather. There is also still quite a bit I want to include, so a fourth chapter would probably have been necessary anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

The click-clicking sound of thirty keyboards sounded all around Emma. She tried to concentrate on the typing tutorial she was working on, but her mind kept drifting to Killian. _Bomp-booommm_ intoned the computer program as the little man on her screen fell from the little mountain he was scaling. Emma groaned. At least today was just more drill, and not a quiz. She was usually a pretty fast typer, but today she just couldn’t focus.

She had helped Killian get his schedule when they arrived that morning, and luckily, they had history together first period. Killian had been petrified. “I don’t know the history of this realm, Swan,” he had whispered to her.

Emma had sighed. He was still clinging so tenaciously to this fantasy world of his. Emma chalked it up to the nervousness of never having been to school. “It’s ok. I saw this thing on the news once where they walked up to random teenagers at the mall and asked them basic history questions. None of the kids could answer them.”

“Half the time the words coming out of your mouth are a bloody mystery, Emma. What the hell are you trying to say?”

She pulled him by the arm into the classroom. “I’m trying to say, you’ll be just fine.”

He was actually more than fine, getting into a lively debate with her history teacher about the merits of a monarchy versus a democracy. Their teacher was so enlivened by a student actually participating, that he didn’t even notice the rest of the class had fallen asleep.

He and Emma had their next class together as well, English. They were studying Greek mythology, which Killian knew all about. He insisted to their teacher that Poseidon’s daughters were actually mermaids, not sea nymphs.

“My brother Liam and I have actually seen –“

Emma, seated directly behind him, cut Killian off with a swift kick to the back of his calf, worried where he was going with this.

“mer- umph – bloody hell, Swan!”

“Mr. Jones,” their English teacher had admonished, “I don’t know what they allow in England, but here in America, I don’t allow my students to use such language. And keep your hands – and your feet – to yourself, Miss Swan.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they both muttered, Emma shooting Killian daggers with her eyes.

But third period Killian had geometry while Emma had computer applications. Since Killian had seemed to have lived some sort of Amish existence, she was relieved that he had no computer courses on his schedule. Nonetheless, she was worried about him being in a class without her.

“This is one class I’m not worried about, Emma,” he had assured her. “Even the lowliest cabin boy has to learn basic geometry on a ship.”

But Emma still worried. What if he said something about being a cabin boy? What if he said something weird about the calculators? Plus, if she was honest, she just missed him. They had the same lunch right after third period, and Emma was literally counting the minutes.

Finally, the period wound to a close as Emma’s teacher stood behind her chair shaking her head. Emma never did get that stupid little man up the mountain. She gave her teacher a sheepish grin and bolted from her seat and out the door.

Each of the subject areas in Emma’s school were on separate hallways. Each of these hallways intersected in a large, circular vestibule like spokes on a wheel. On the north side of this vestibule were the school offices. On the south, the cafeteria. All traffic in the school had to go through this area. It was also a hang out spot for students, lined with vending machines and scattered with small tables. The kids called it “the court,” since it sort of resembled the food court in a mall. As she headed to meet Killian for lunch, she heard a loud commotion coming from the court. As she got closer, she heard shouts of “Fight! Fight!”

Emma was not normally the type of student to come running when she heard there was a fight. Flying under the radar meant being as far away as possible from trouble. But this time, she ran toward the commotion instead of away from it. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that the fight had something to do with Killian. As she got closer to the altercation, the crowd became more packed. She shoved and elbowed her way through. Emma noticed the closer she got to the actual fight, that students began making room for her, staring and whispering. That wasn’t a good sign. Not good at all.

Finally, there he was. Killian. He had Steven on the ground, and he was pounding him in the face with his fists. Killian had such rage on his face, it frightened Emma. She wasn’t frightened _of_ Killian, just frightened that he might do something he regretted. Like kill Steven. The way Killian was pummeling him, it was a realistic fear.

“Killian!” Emma shouted.

At the sound of her voice, Killian paused, and looked up.

“Killian, stop!”

Simultaneously, two football coaches and the school resource officer came running. The officer hauled Killian to his feet. As he did, Killian’s eyes never left Emma’s. Shame seemed to wash over him, and he lowered his head dejectedly as the officer led him away. The coaches helped Steven to his feet, one of them handing him an ice pack.

With the boys suddenly gone, the mob turned on Emma, everyone staring and whispering. Emma nervously lowered her head, pushing her hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. Some of the kids snickered, and some of the boys gave her lecherous stares.

A girl from her history class was bold enough to approach Emma. “Is it true?” she asked. “Did you really have a threesome with Steven and Killian?”

“Wh-what?” Emma stammered.

“That’s what everyone is saying. You let Steven and Killian take turns with you. And now they’re fighting over you.”

Emma looked around at the crowd of teenagers, her face flaming. Everyone it seemed was staring. Emma turned and fled, forgetting all about lunch. She locked herself in a stall in the girl’s bathroom. She rocked back and forth, hugging herself. She almost felt like she might hyperventilate. Part of the reason she asked Killian not to say anything about what happened last night was because she was ashamed. She knew, in the rational part of her brain, that she had no reason to feel that way. But that was still the predominate emotion raging inside of her – shame. And now the whole school thought she had _let_ a boy use her. No, they thought she had let _two_ boys use her. Everyone would believe it. After all, she was _just_ a foster kid. Emma let the tears fall, hot and painful.

              **************************************************

Emma wasn’t really sure how she made it to math class. She was moving in a daze. She stared at the chalkboard, not really seeing it, as her teacher demonstrated a problem. She stared at her empty sheet of paper as everyone tried the practice problems on the board. Thankfully, her teacher didn’t call on her. She was still staring holes in the chalkboard, clutching the pencil she wasn’t using in white knuckles, when one of the assistant principals came to the door and asked for Emma. Emma wordlessly, woodenly, gathered her things and followed the principal, wishing she didn’t notice the snickers and whispers of her classmates.

As Emma walked into the main lobby area of the school offices, she saw Steven and Killian sitting side by side on hard, plastic chairs, holding ice packs to their faces. Killian called out her name, but Emma tilted her chin up imperiously and ignored him. The assistant principal led Emma into the head principal’s office, shutting the door behind them. Behind the principal, stood the school resource officer, and in front of the principal’s desk sat Linda and Emma’s social worker, Pam. The principal gestured toward the empty seat between the two women.

“Please, Emma,” she said kindly, “have a seat.”

Emma sat down, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans. She stared down at her shoes, too ashamed to look anyone in the eye. What did all of these adults think of her? What had the boys told them?

Linda gently put her hand on Emma’s arm. “You’re not in trouble Emma,” she assured her in a kind voice.

“Well,” the principal clarified, “that remains to be seen.”               Linda’s head jerked quickly towards the principal, and she narrowed her eyes slightly. Emma felt a little better now. She felt that Linda, at least, had her back.

The principal folded her hands on the desk. “The two boys out there, as you may know, got into a fight today. They both say the fight was about you, Emma. The problem is, each boy is telling a completely different story. We’re hoping, Emma, that you can shed light on the matter.”

Emma glanced sideways at Linda. “Do I have to?”               “Honey,” Linda said, giving her arm a squeeze, “just tell us the truth.”

It was the last thing Emma wanted to do, but she knew she had no choice. She stared down at her shoes through the whole story, leaving out the part about Killian’s dagger. Linda held her hand through the whole thing. When she looked up, Linda gave her a small, encouraging smile and squeezed her hand.

Everything after that was a blur. Decisions were discussed amongst the adults, phone calls were made, and paper work was shuffled around for people to sign. There was only one thing Emma wanted to know. Well, two things.

“What did Killian say?” Emma whispered to Linda.

Linda glanced at the principal, then leaned closer to Emma and whispered back. “Nothing. He refused to say anything except that Steven was lying.”

Emma sighed, relieved. He had kept his promise. “Will I have to see Steven again?”

“No,” Linda assured her, “no, honey, you will never have to see him again. He’s leaving Hope House.”

After that, Emma’s principal told her she could return to class. “Do I have to?” Emma said in a small voice. Her principal started to open her mouth but both Linda and Pam cut her off.

“I would say that, under the circumstances, Emma could be excused for the remainder of the day, don’t you think?” Emma’s social worker asked the principal.

“I have to take Killian home, anyway.” Linda added.

The principal pursed her lips, but agreed. Emma turned to Linda. “Could I please walk home instead? I’d like some fresh air.”

“Okay, honey, just be home in time for your study and homework hour.”

Emma picked up her book bag and walked out of the room. She was relieved that Steven and Killian were nowhere to be seen. The hall way was eerily quiet, since class was still in session. Emma went to her locker, put up the books she wouldn’t need for homework, and began to walk towards the door at the end of the hall.

“Emma!” she heard an accented voice call. Emma ignored Killian and kept walking. “Emma, wait!” She continued through the door and down the sidewalk, away from the school and the horrible day she had just had. “Emma, _please!”_ Killian said, grabbing her gently by the elbow.

“Don’t, Killian!” she yelled, turning on him. “Just leave me alone!”

Emma ran then, but she heard Killian’s footsteps behind her. Emma was fast, but so was he. A block from the school, he caught up with her.

“Emma, just listen. I just wanted you to know that I kept my promise; I swear I did.”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “But you beat up Steven, and now the whole school thinks I’m a slut who slept with both of you!”

Killian ran his hands through his hair in frustration, pacing back and forth. “I am so sick of this realm, Emma! I beat up a beast of a person, who slanders your good name, and _I’m_ the bad guy? He gets kicked out of school, but so do I? Is that justice, Emma?”

“You got kicked out of school?”

“Yes! But I would do it all over again. You know why, Emma?”

“Why?” Emma whispered.

Killian sighed, the anger and frustration seeping out of him. He stepped closer to Emma, reaching out and playing with a strand of her hair. “Because I care for you, Emma. You are a bloody brilliant, amazing, tough lass, Emma Swan. You don’t deserve the things Steven did to you and said about you.” Kilian let Emma’s hair slip through his fingers as he clenched his jaw. “I will _not_ stand by and let him get away with it.”

Emma felt tears spring to her eyes and a lump form in her throat. No one had ever said things like that to her. Time seemed to move in slow motion as Killian lifted his hands to cup her face. He bent his head towards her, touching his lips to hers. It was tentative and chaste, just lips tenderly brushing lips. When Killian pulled back, Emma smiled up at him, then leaned towards him. He smiled back, and pressed his mouth to hers again. This time, Emma tilted her head to deepen the kiss. She sighed into it, her lips parting slightly. Emma felt pure, unadulterated joy surge through her. Suddenly, the street light over their heads flared to life, then burst in a showering of sparks. The loud popping sound sent them jumping apart, both of them laughing.

“Emma,” Killian said tentatively, stepping forward again to trace the line of her cheek with his fingertips.

“Yes, Killian?” Emma asked, turning her face into his palm and kissing it.

“Do you believe in soul mates? Do you believe there is a person out there whom you are destined to be with?”

Emma gave a little laugh. “Like in a fairy tale?” But as she gazed into Killian’s eyes, she saw that he was intensely serious.

“Remember that magic mirror I told you about? Well, it belonged to a gypsy. You could pay her a copper to look in the mirror, and it would supposedly show you your true love. My brother paid for me to look in the mirror, as a joke. The gypsy pushed me into the mirror instead, sending me here.”

Emma took a step back from Killian, worried where this was going. Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small scroll of parchment paper, like the kind you see in movies. He looked deeply into Emma’s eyes, as if begging her to believe him.

“Before I fell through the portal, Emma, the gypsy gave me this. She said it was the name of my true love.”

Killian handed Emma the tiny scroll. Emma took it, dread filling her. She unrolled it and saw, written in beautiful script with thick, black ink her own name. Emma Swan. Below that, there was a drawing, a symbol, really. It looked like the neck and head of a swan, meeting the curve of a hook, to form a heart.

“I don’t understand, Killian . . .” Emma stuttered, shaking her head.

“That’s why I thought you could help me, that first night. That’s why I couldn’t stop staring at you, Emma.”

“You don’t mean . . .”

“Yes, Emma, you’re my true love! The one the gypsy sent me to meet.”

Emma couldn’t process what he was saying. But his lips were on hers again, and she lost herself in it. _I could kiss him for the rest of eternity,_ Emma thought, _and never get tired of it._ But what he was saying made no sense. There were no portals, no magic, no true love like in a fairy tale.

“There’s more I must tell you, Emma,” Killian said when he pulled away, forehead resting on hers. “The gypsy also warned me that I couldn’t stay.”

At those words, Emma yanked away from him, stumbling backwards. It was like ice cold water being dumped on her head.

“I don’t think we’ll be parted forever, love.” Killian assured her, stepping forwards, and reaching for her. But Emma put up her hand to stop him.

“So this is your way of justifying leaving me?” Emma shouted.

“I don’t _want_ to leave you, Emma –“

“But you will!” Emma yelled throwing the stupid little piece of paper at his face. “You’ll leave me just like everyone else.”

“Emma, please, believe me!”

That was the last straw for Emma. She had been so patient with Killian and his crazy fantasies, but this was taking things too far. “The only person who ever wanted to adopt me was crazy! The only friend I ever had ended up being crazy! It figures that the first boy I kiss would be crazy, too!”

“It was _your_ first kiss, too?”

Emma ignored his tender smile, and kept backing up farther. Hot tears coursed down her face. “Don’t follow me this time, Killian.”

Emma turned and ran, but just before she left him standing there beneath the broken street light, she heard him say three words.

“As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have to stop falsely promising a certain number of chapters! I am so sorry; I really wanted to finish this fic today with this chapter! But first our internet was out almost all day, and then I had technical difficulties with my computer. To top that all off, my kids are completely off schedule because it's summer time, so my three year old wouldn't take a nap. Nap time is when I write, so that threw everything off, too. Anyhoo, I still wanted to update today, so here is chapter 4. I would like to say chapter 5 will end this fic, but I don't want to make another false promise!


	5. Chapter 5

              Emma wasn’t running anywhere in particular. She was just running. Running away was just what she did. It even said so in her file at children’s services. Emma finally stopped, panting. She chuckled to herself when she looked across the street and saw Hope House. Her feet may have been running, but her heart wasn’t. She still wasn’t ready to let Killian go. That scared her and made her angry in equal measure.

              Emma sighed and crossed the street. She walked through the front door and climbed the stairs up to her room. At the end of the hall, she saw Sarah through her open door, studying at her desk like always. Emma thought for a moment, then walked down the hall and tapped lightly on Sarah’s door frame. Sarah looked up and smiled.

              “Come on in.”

              Emma walked in and sat down tentatively on the edge of Sarah’s bed. She nervously traced the floral pattern of the bedspread. She wasn’t very good at girl talk. “So at school . . . did you know, I mean, did you hear anything . . .”

              “Yeah,” Sarah cut her off. “Everyone did.”

              Emma groaned and fell backwards on the bed. If a senior had heard the gossip, then the whole school knew.

              “If it makes a difference, I knew it wasn’t true,” continued Sarah. “I mean, I know you’re into Killian, it’s sort of obvious. But Steven?” Sarah shuddered, which made Emma laugh.

              Sitting up on her elbows, Emma saw Sarah straddling her chair backwards, chin in her hand. They looked like two ordinary teenage girls talking about school and boys. Normal for most people; but not for these two foster girls. Emma bit her lip and blurted out. “I kissed him.”

              “Who, Steven?” Sarah joked, and Emma threw a pillow at her. This felt good. Normal.

              Sarah threw the pillow back at Emma with a giggle, and Emma hugged it to her chest. “Well, I guess technically he kissed me. _Then_ I kissed him back. Then he kissed me again –“

              Sarah laughed and held up her hand. “I get the idea, Emma! I don’t need a play by play of your make out session.”

              “We weren’t making out!”

              “Whatever you say, Emma.” The girls laughed again, but then Sarah sobered. “I know what really happened Emma. I know what Killian did for you. But, you still need to –“

              Emma cut her off, “I know, Sarah, you’ve said it a hundred times. Boys are trouble. I know that, and that’s why I - wait – how did you know what really happened?”

              Sarah sighed. “I was in the back corner of the common area, in that study cubicle. Linda didn’t see me there, so she left her office door open. Someone from children’s services was in there, and one of the trustees for Hope House. I overheard what really happened last night.”

              “Oh,” Emma said softly, ducking her head and tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

              “Don’t be embarrassed, Emma. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

              “Thanks,” Emma whispered with a grateful smile.

              “But that isn’t all I overheard, Emma,” Sarah continued. When Emma met her gaze, Sarah averted her eyes. _I have a bad feeling about this._ “They’re sending Killian to Oakridge in the morning.”

              “What!” Emma exploded. “But why? Just because he beat up Steven? That’s not fair; he was just defending me!”

              Sarah shook her head. “That’s not why, Emma. The social worker said that her interview with Killian was odd. He said he was from England, but he didn’t know any cities over there, even London. He seemed confused about a lot of things, and of course his behavior _is_ a little odd. The social worker said he had some sort of psychological problem. I can’t remember exactly what she called it, but she basically thinks Killian is living in a fantasy.”

              “Killian is _not_ crazy!” Emma argued. She didn’t know why she was defending him so vehemently. Especially when she herself had called him crazy less than an hour ago. But _other_ people saying it suddenly made her blood boil.

              “Come on, Emma,” Sarah said gently, “you have to admit that he acts a bit strange. With his ‘m’ladies’ and ‘fair lasses’ and little bows. And the way he talks about ships all the time. It’s like he thinks he’s Captain Jack Sparrow or something.”

              Emma crossed her arms and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just because he’s from England. The accent and the slang . . .”

              Sarah shook her head. “The social worker doesn’t think his accent is real, Emma. She thinks it’s part of the fantasy. Plus, they checked on his passport. There have been no passports issued to anyone named Killian Jones in the past year. As a matter of fact, there’s no birth certificate anywhere in the UK for a 15 year old boy by that name. They think he made the name up.”

              Emma felt sadness sweep through her. No matter what the truth was about Killian Jones, he was right about one thing. He was going to have to leave her whether he wanted to or not. Emma rose from the bed, dropped the pillow, and headed for the door. She was through with girl talk.

              “Emma,” said Sarah softly. Emma turned around. “I’m really sorry. He seemed like a nice guy.”

             Emma nodded sadly as she walked to her bedroom. Only after she shut her door and collapsed on her own bed did she answer. “Yeah. He _is_ a nice guy. A great guy.” Not that it mattered. Not in the life of Emma Swan.

                            ****************************************************

              Killian was back at Hope House in time for dinner. A very awkward dinner. It seemed everyone at Hope House – even the middle schoolers – knew why Steven was gone. It was the giant elephant in the room, so no one talked. No one asked about Steven, no one asked Killian about his swollen nose or where he had been all afternoon. Even Linda made no attempt at small talk, which was usually her job at meal time – to get them to talk, like a real family. Emma wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. She had made a decision that afternoon after talking to Sarah. She needed to eat because this would be her last meal at Hope House, and probably her last good meal for a long time. She had no fantasies about life as a runaway. But tonight she _was_ running away. And she was taking Killian with her.

              Several hours later, when the house was quiet and dark, Emma slipped out of her bed, already dressed in a tee shirt and jeans. She slipped into her sneakers and put on her jacket. She pulled her book bag from under her bed, already packed. Then she lifted her bedroom window and climbed into the branches of the tree growing right outside. Her first week at Hope House, they had done spring cleaning. Emma’s job had been windows. Cleaning windows, she had made several important discoveries. One, there were no screens on the windows. Because of fire codes. Linda had said. Her other discovery she had kept to herself. A person could climb from Emma’s window, through the branches of the tree outside, to all of the other windows on that side of the house. Emma wasn’t sure why this information would be ever be useful to her, but she kept it to herself nonetheless.

              Emma counted the windows. When she reached the second window to her left, she stopped. Emma tapped as loudly as she dared on the glass. She saw a lamp turn on inside, and then Killian was standing in front of the window, groggy and confused. She motioned for him to open the window. By the time he had gotten it open, he was fully awake.

              “Bloody hell Swan, have you lost your mind? You’re going to kill yourself falling out of that tree!”

              Emma rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t plan on falling out. Now get dressed and pack the essentials in your pillow case. And hurry. We’re running away.”

              Killian’s eyes widened. “Running away!”

              “Yes,” Emma hissed. “Do you trust me, Killian?”

              His eyes softened. “Aye.”

              “Then hurry.”

              Killian did as she asked, and then they were climbing carefully out of the tree. When they reached the ground, Killian opened his mouth to ask her something, but before he could, Emma grabbed his hand and yanked him down the street. They ran for several blocks. Killian kept trying to ask her questions, but every time she shushed him. Finally, they reached the city park five blocks away. Across the street was a bus stop. Both of them leaned over, panting. Emma checked her watch.

              “The bus will be here in 15 minutes or so. I have enough cash in my pocket for two tickets to Portland. We can get a fresh start there.”

              “You’ve done this before.” It wasn’t a question.

              “Yeah,” Emma shrugged. “It’s kind of my thing.”

              “Where did you get the money?”

              “The money for my ticket is the money I was planning on using when you showed up. We had a candy bar fundraiser at school. I told them I lost my candy. The money for your ticket . . . well, I stole it from Linda’s purse.”

             Emma was proud of the first scam, but not the outright theft from Linda. She really did like her. But Killian smiled “You’d make a hell of a pirate, Swan.”

              Emma smiled at first, until his comment made her think of her conversation with Sarah. As her face fell, Killian cocked his head thoughtfully. “You yelled at me, called me crazy, and then ran from me. Why are you doing this now?”

              “I found out they were sending you to Oakridge in the morning.”

              Killian nodded sadly. “So this is pity.”

              “No!” Emma assured him quickly. She stepped closer to him, taking both of his hands in hers. “I realized that, no matter what, I want to be with you. I may not understand everything you’ve been through, but the past doesn’t matter. We can just concentrate on the future. Because I trust you, Killian.”

              A smile lit up Killian’s face. He leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss against her lips. “I don’t know what the future holds, Emma, but I’ve already been here longer than I thought I would. Maybe the gypsy was wrong. Maybe I have a choice. And I choose you, Emma.”

              “You do?”

              “That surprises you?”

              Emma felt a tear slip down her cheek. “Yes. No one ever chooses me.”

              Killian wiped her tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Then no one’s ever really seen you, Emma Swan.” He kissed her again, deeper this time. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close. He threaded his other hand through her hair. Emma put both arms around his neck, playing with the hair that curled there. When Killian pulled back, his smile warmed her all the way to her toes. “I love you, Emma.”

              Emma swallowed a lump in her throat. “I love you, too.” She rested her palm against his cheek, tracing the scar there with her thumb. Killian closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. Then his lips found hers again.

              When Emma opened her eyes, she yelped. Over Killian’s shoulder, she saw an old man with a long grey beard. Killian whirled around, standing protectively in front of Emma. The old man raised his hand.

              “I mean you no harm.”

              “Who the hell are you?” asked Killian hesitantly.

              “Let’s just say I am here to fix a mess made by a meddlesome gypsy.”

              “He knows about the gypsy, too?” Emma whispered over Killian’s shoulder.

              “Yes, Emma, I know everything. More than you know.”

              “How do you know my name?” Emma asked suspiciously.

              “The sorcerer sees all. And I am his apprentice.”

              “You’re from the Enchanted Forest?” Killian asked.

              “Yes, and we must get you back to your own realm and time, Killian Jones.” With that, the old man drew the shape of a door in the air. When he was done, an actual door appeared.

              Emma gasped. She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them. Nope. The door and the man were still there. She pinched herself on the arm and yelped. Nope. She was awake. Killian turned and smirked at her. “Believe me now, Swan?”

              Emma walked up to the door and walked all around it. She was too afraid to touch it. “How is this possible?”

              “Magic,” the man answered simply. “Just like the magic coursing through your own veins, Emma.”

              It was Killian’s turn to be surprised. “Emma has magic?”

              “Yes,” the man answered with a smile, “she is from the Enchanted Forest, just like you.”

              Emma and Killian stared at one another, eyes wide. “I – I am?” Emma stuttered. “How?”

              “Now is not the time to answer all your questions, Emma. But that fantasy you clung to as a child? It was no fantasy.”

              Emma put her hand to her forehead. It was too much to process. “Can you take me to my parents?”

              “I’m sorry, Emma. It isn’t time yet.” He then looked at Killian. “But the time _has_ come for you to go, young man.”

              Killian and Emma looked at one another. Killian stepped closer to Emma and put his arm around her. “Emma and I will not be parted. I either stay here, or she goes with me.”

              Emma looked up at his face, so resolute and steadfast. Her heart swelled with love for him.

              “I am afraid that is impossible. First of all, you come from a different time, Killian. In the world I am sending you back to, Emma won’t be born for another two centuries.”

              Killian looked down at Emma, heartbreak all over his face. “But I thought . . . Emma is supposed to be my true love.”

              Emma suddenly realized that if Killian was from two centuries in the past, he was dead now. Tears began to stream down her face.

              “You _are_ each other’s true love,” the old man clarified gently, “but you both must walk a long, broken road and experience great pain before you find one another.”

              “That’s not fair!” argued Emma. “Why do we have to go through pain when we’ve already found each other?”

              “Because it isn’t just about the two of you. The fate of all the realms hangs in the balance. Curses must be broken. Darkness must be defeated. Death itself must be set to right. If you don’t meet in the proper time and place, none of that will happen. Killian _must_ leave you now. But trust that you will be reunited.”

              With that, the apprentice flicked his fingers towards the door. It flew open and a swirling, purple vortex could be seen through it. He turned to the two of them sadly. “Say your good-byes.”

              Emma turned to Killian, her tears still falling. “This isn’t fair. How can I go on without you?”

              “Because you won’t remember him,” the sorcerer interrupted gently.

              Killian pulled Emma to him, desperately now. “No! I won’t let her go.”

              The vortex began swirling faster. Energy pulsed from it. Killian felt himself being pulled backward. “Don’t let go, Emma!”

              But no matter how hard they tried, Killian continued to be pulled backwards, while Emma’s feet were rooted to the spot. Killian’s feet left the ground. Emma reached her arms out as far as they would go, clinging to his hands. Then his fingers were slipping from her grasp. With one last cry of Emma’s name on his lips, Killian was pulled through the portal and the door slammed shut.

                            ********************************************************

              Madame Zeroni gave Killian a hard shove. He crashed straight into the mirror. Killian cursed as he rubbed at his now swollen nose.

              “Bloody buggering hell, woman!”

              The gypsy looked in confusion at the surface of her mirror. She marched back to Killian, opened his fist, and found his palm empty.

              “Where is zee parchment I gave you?”               “What parchment? Look, I paid you my brother’s last coin to look in your magic mirror. So either deliver or give me my copper back.”

              Madame Zeroni shook her head as if to clear it. Then she shrugged and chanted once again, shaking her stick over both Killian and her mirror. The mirror’s surface once again began to shimmer. Killian narrowed his eyes as he watched an image come into focus. It was a swan, with pure white feathers and a gracefully curved neck.

              “A bird!” Killian exclaimed. “My true love is a bloody bird?”

              “Well,” chuckled Madame Zeroni, “what zee mirror sees is sometimes a symbol. It eez saying zat your true love will be lovely and graceful as a swan.”

              Killian turned in exasperation, jaw clenched, and marched out of the gypsy’s tent. His brother ran after him.

              “Well, Killian?” Liam asked. “What did you see that has you so upset? What, is she too chubby? Too freckled? Because, I hate to point this out, brother, but you’re rather freckled yourself . . .”

              “It was a swan,” Killian muttered.

              “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

              Killian whirled to face his brother and shouted, “A swan, okay! The gypsy is a bloody trickster.”

              Liam’s initial surprise quickly turned to laughter. “A swan? So water fowl are your weakness, little brother?” Liam slapped Killian on the back, doubled over laughing. “Are you going to go around now kissing every swan you see, hoping it turns into a fair maiden? Should the ducklings hide from you, too? Should I worry I may find you one morning getting fresh with the sea gulls?”

              Liam guffawed as Killian stood there fuming with his arms crossed. Seeing Killian’s irate posture, Liam calmed himself and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Killian, you have got to lighten up. You are so intense about everything, it isn’t healthy.”

              Killian relaxed a bit and lowered his arms. “You’re right brother, it _is_ rather humorous. I’m just worried I suppose about our new master. Captain Evans has been so kind; a huge improvement over our last master. Why did he sell us?”

              “To give us a better chance, remember? Captain Evans doesn’t have the means to grant us our freedom, but Captain Silver does. We will be indentured servants now, not slaves. We can earn our freedom.”

              Killian shook his head. “But there’s something about Captain Silver that I don’t trust.”

              Liam sighed. “You don’t trust _anyone_ Killian!”

              “I trust _you_. Implicitly.”

              “Then trust me in this. I have a gut feeling that when we board Captain Silver’s ship in the morning, we will be sailing towards our destiny.”

                            *********************************************************

              Emma took in her surroundings, confused. She was in the city park. Why? Emma reached up and felt wetness on her cheeks. Had she been crying? Her book bag was flung across her back. Now she remembered! Steven’s threats! Hope House! She was running away.

              Emma unzipped her book bag and checked the contents. There were the strawberry Pop Tarts and pretzels she had just pilfered from the pantry. She pulled the money from her pocket. She had more than she remembered. Enough for a ticket to Portland and then enough left over to last her a couple of days.

              Emma was confused to find a piece of paper in her other pocket. How had that gotten there? It looked like parchment paper, like the kind in old historical movies. She unrolled it. On it was her name in ancient looking script. Below that, was a symbol that looked like a swan’s neck joined with a hook to form a heart. That was odd. Emma looked up and saw the lights of the bus approaching. She wadded up the little piece of paper and tossed it in the trash. Some silly boy at school must have passed it to her. She jogged across the street, eager to get as far away from this town as possible.

                             **************************************************

**A Year and a Half Later**

              Emma Swan walked down the street with purpose, as if she had a place to be. It was a skill she had learned during her time on the streets. And actually, today, she did have a purpose. She was going to find herself a car.

              A boy she had briefly dated had taught her how to steal a car. She still remembered when she had helped him steal his truck. She was shaking like a leaf. It was an old, beat up pick-up truck.

              “Why do you want to steal this bucket of bolts?” Emma had asked. “Don’t car thieves go after sports cars? You know, like _Gone in 60 Seconds_ and _The Fast and the Furious_?”

              “That’s car theft rings, Emma,” Ricky had explained. “If all you want is your own ride, it’s best to steal a piece of junk. As long as it runs.”

              “But why?”               “Because it’s easier to get away with it. Hell, some people feel like you did them a favor. If they’ve got insurance, they get a new car, and so do you.”

              Emma rounded the corner and saw it. Her car. It was perfect. She walked towards it with purpose, head down, as if she were the owner looking for her keys. She had a good feeling about this car. Behind the wheel of this little yellow bug, she would drive straight to her destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I based the time frame of this fic on the fact that Emma said she was 13 or 14 in the video with Ingrid. I know that doesn't fit the time stamp on the episode that said 1999. Because if Emma was born in 1983, she would have been 16 in 1999, not 13 or 14. But we know Once sometimes messes up their time stamps (I'm looking at you, Camelot!), so I decided to go by what Emma said. Thus, this fic takes place a year and a half after Emma meets Lily and a year and a half before she meets Neal.  
> * Thank you every one for reading this fic and leaving your kudos and comments!

**Author's Note:**

> *Yeah, I'm obsessed with younger versions of Emma and Killian meeting each other. I have another fic called Hope for the Orphans where they meet as little kids - in canon. So I had to write one where they meet as teens. Imagine Emma the way she looked in the flashbacks with younger Lily. Imagine Killian as . . . well, fifteen.  
> * Yeah, the gypsy is Madame Zeroni from the book Holes. I'm reading it out loud to my 7 year old right now. It's one of my favorites, and I just couldn't resist. Besides, the movie is Disney, so it's not outside the realm of possibility for her to show up on Once. Right?  
> * This was going to be a one shot, but I realized there is a lot I want to do with this, so I'm making it a multi-chapter. Besides, how could I resist that chapter ending? It shouldn't be real long, though. Just three chapters. Probably. Maybe. :)  
> * Don't be alarmed by the attempted rape tag. It won't be graphic or anything, but I wanted to put in the warning in case it is a trigger for anyone. And, obviously, it won't be Killian doing it. It's also the only reason this fic is rated T. Emma and Killian are 15! That's just inappropriate in my opinion. Sorry!


End file.
